by Kieran Scott
“I’m gonna do the same. But thanks, hon,” she said. She hugged me, and for once I gave into it and hugged her back with my whole body. “I love you, kid.”
“Love you, too, Mom,” I said.
Then I dragged myself up to my room, lay down on my bed and listened . . . to the silence.
ACT FIVE, SCENE SEVEN
In which:
THE WALLS SHRINK
“SHE’S HERE, RIGHT? I MEAN, SHE HAS TO BE HERE.” I HAD GOTTEN in the car a nervous wreck, and by the time I walked into the school lobby, I had all but lost control of my bodily functions. I hadn’t gone over a single page of the script last night. Not a single word. How could I be expected to concentrate on lines like “God! What a party poop!” when my father had just moved out of the house? “Just because she skipped school again, that doesn’t mean she’s not here, right?”
Robbie had been wrong about one thing. Tama had not woken up that morning and realized all the things he’d said she’d realize. At least she hadn’t realized it before homeroom, because she hadn’t been seen by a soul all day.
“I’m sure she’s here,” Fred replied, walking sideways next to me, like he was afraid to take his eyes off me in case I . . . what? Fainted? Spontaneously combusted? “Although . . .”
“Although what?” I croaked as we walked down the hall toward the back entrance to the stage. “Although what?”
Fred screwed his mouth up. “Isn’t there some rule where if you don’t come to school you can’t do extracurriculars that day, either?”
“That’s a rule? Is that a rule?” I demanded.
“I think it’s a rule.”
He opened the door and we walked inside. I held on to the handrail along the five downward steps just so that I wouldn’t collapse. “Well, it’s a stupid rule. They’d have to ignore it for this, wouldn’t they? I mean, she’s the star. She’s Sandy. She’s—”
We walked into the first dressing room and I stopped in my tracks. Ashley Brown stood on the block in the center of the room, wearing a ponytail, a neck scarf and Sandy’s blue poodle skirt, which Ms. Lin was quickly hemming. All the air in the room was sucked out and the walls shrank in toward me.
Ashley turned around and grinned. “There’s our Rizzo!”
ACT FIVE, SCENE EIGHT
In which:
I CONSIDER MURDER
I STOOD IN THE CENTER OF THE DRESSING ROOM, WITH FIVE minutes to showtime, staring at the reflection that wasn’t me. That was not my poofed-out hair. Those were not my eyes under all that blue eye shadow. The fake birthmark painted just above the corner of my mouth? Not mine. And those breasts? Those tremendous bazoongas popping out of the low-cut silk black top that Ms. Lin had squeezed me into? Those could not be mine. My boobs had never seen that much light of day. I had long since vowed that they never would. So there was no way those inflated beach balls were mine.
Behind me, Ashley hummed “It’s Raining on Prom Night” as she made sure all her costumes were in order. I wanted to grab her and strangle her. If she went down, there was no one else to play Sandy. They’d have to cancel the show. It would be a small price to pay to get out of this nightmare.
“Hey, KJ! Ready to go?” Fred asked, poking his head in. His hair was slicked back from his face, and he wore a white T-shirt, black leather jacket and way too much rouge.
To his credit, he didn’t even glance at the fourteen miles of cleavage glaring him in the face. We’d just done a fast-forward run-through in the music room to make sure I knew what I was doing (which I clearly didn’t, though no one was man enough to say so), and we’d all been in costume. The boys had gotten most of their drooling done then. I hoped.
“I’m not doing this,” I said, whipping a silk kimono robe off the rack. I covered myself and cinched the belt. Once the lighted runway of cleavage was gone, I felt much more self-assured. “Go tell Mr. Katz there’s no way I’m doing this.”
Ashley stopped humming. Fred paled under his makeup. “What? KJ, you can’t not do this.”
“Oh yes I can. Call Tama. Get her ass down here! She has to go on!” I babbled.
“Um, KJ? That’s not gonna happen,” Ashley said, disturbed. “Tama is ‘deathly ill,’ remember?” she said with air quotes. “Apparently the girl’s never heard of hot tea with lemon and ‘the show must go on.’ ”
“She’s lying!” I protested. “I saw Tama yesterday! She’s fine!”
I started to hyperventilate. Fred yanked a chair out from the wall for me to sit in. I promptly plopped down, put my head between my knees and gasped.
“Are you okay?” Fred asked. “KJ?”
I couldn’t answer. I could hardly even think. I kept trying to suck in air, but nothing was happening. My lungs started to burn. My vision grayed over. I kept seeing myself on stage, frozen. Seeing myself on stage with everyone dancing around me while I stood there like an idiot, doing nothing. Staring. Staring into a sea of gaping faces.
“Omigod. She’s having a panic attack,” Ashley said.
“She’s fine,” Fred said. He dropped to his knees in front of me. I could see a roll of skin hanging out over the top of his jeans. “KJ, you can do this. I know you can do this,” he said, putting his hands on my shoulders. “You have to do this.”
I looked up into his kohl-rimmed eyes, as sincere and hopeful as ever. My heart felt like it was being choked in a fist of granite. I was having a heart attack. I really was.
“You’re going to be great,” Fred said with a nod.
He was so sure of himself. So sure of me. But I couldn’t even feel my toes, or my fingertips. And that, I knew, could not be a good sign.
“I can’t do this, Fred,” I choked out. “I can’t. I can’t. I can’t.”
“This is just like when Carrie Bradshaw tried on the wedding dress in Sex and the City and couldn’t breathe,” Ashley said helpfully, leaning in. “Maybe we should take her clothes off!”
“No!” I blurted.
“Your funeral,” Ashley said.
“Shut up, Ashley. And back off !” Fred said, taking charge in a way I’d never seen him take charge before.
“Sorry.”
“Okay, now, do you want to help here or what?” Fred said.
“What can I do?” Ashley asked.
“Get Mr. Katz! No. Wait. Get Stephanie. She’ll know what to do.”
“Stephanie Shumer will know what to do,” she said sarcastically.
“Just go!”
Ashley ran out. My feet bounced up and down under the chair and I started to rock back and forth, clutching my stomach.
I can’t do this. I can’t do this. I can’t do this.
In my mind’s eye I saw Tama staring down from the window, saw Mr. Katz popping Tums, Tama’s mom closing a door in my face, my father storming out, my mother all pissed off, Christopher crying, Stephanie, Andy, Robbie, Glenn, Cameron, Fred, Tama . . . I couldn’t take it anymore. It was all too much. Too much, too much, too much.
“What’s the problem?” Robbie asked, looking scared out of his mind as he ran in with Stephanie on his heels. They were both in costume, too. Him in slick hair and drag queen eyeliner, her with gray streaks painted into her hair, which was back in a bun. It just made the whole situation all the more disturbing.
“The problem is, I’m not going out there!” I said, standing up. I was shaking from head to toe. “I’m not doing it. For once, just one little teeny tiny time in my whole entire life, I’m being irresponsible, okay? I’m not going out there. End of story. Don’t even try to talk me out of it!”
“KJ, calm down,” Robbie said, walking over to me. He gripped my upper arms in his hands.
“You did great in the run-through, KJ,” Stephanie said. “You’re going to be fine. You just have to do your best.”
“No! It’s not fair! How could Tama do this to me?” I cried, tears suddenly bursting forth. I ripped myself out of Robbie’s grasp and paced. “I can’t take care of everything! I can’t fix everything! I’m tired, okay? I’m tired of th
inking about everyone else’s feelings and cleaning up after everyone else’s messes and keeping everyone else’s secrets! Why do I have to be the one to go out there? Why me? Why do I have to do everything!? Did you see how many people are out there right now? This is my worst fear, do you get that? My worst fear!”
Fred, Robbie and Stephanie gave one another a disturbed look like they might have to hit me with a tranq dart. And they were right. I was going psycho. But I couldn’t help it. I threw a Coke at my dream guy, my dad had moved out, my mom wasn’t even sure she was up to coming tonight, Christopher hadn’t spoken to anyone in twenty-four hours, Tama had completely and totally screwed us over, and I was going to go out there and make an idiot out of myself. And now I was having a nervous breakdown in front of Robbie Delano, the guy I was pretty sure I was falling in love with.
“I can’t take it anymore. I just can’t take it,” I rambled.
“KJ. KJ. Shh . . .” Robbie approached me carefully. I stopped moving and let him put his arms around me, pressing my face into his leather-covered shoulder. Gradually the crying slowed and I sucked in a big breath. My vision started to clear. I could see straight again. And I realized that all I wanted to do was stay right there. Right there in Robbie’s arms I felt okay. I felt normal. I felt like the whole world wasn’t closing in on me.
“What’s going on? Is something else wrong?” Robbie asked.
I sniffled and looked at Fred. He immediately closed the door. “My dad, he . . . he moved out.”
“Oh my God. When?” Stephanie asked.
“Last night. Right after you dropped me off.”
Robbie whistled. “Why didn’t you say anything?”
“Because who wants to advertise that?” I moaned.
“You could’ve told us,” Robbie said, glancing at Fred and Steph. And of course, he was right. If there was anyone I could tell, it was them. The guys who had been there for me on the worst night of my life. The friend who had been there for me during every bad night leading up to it.
“I’m sorry.” I wiped at my eyes and my fingers came away with huge black streaks. “My mom told him he had to quit drinking and get help, so he left.”
“Wow. That’s harsh,” Fred said.
“But then he called this morning and said he was starting AA,” I added.
“Well, that’s good, right? That’s a good thing,” Robbie said.
I scoffed. “Yeah, if he actually does it.”
“You don’t think he will?” Fred asked tentatively.
“He’s said this before,” Stephanie clarified for me.
I took a breath and blew it out. “I’m just, I can’t get my hopes up. I just can’t.”
And then I started crying again, more quietly this time, but just as nonstop. Stephanie came over and put her arm around me, and I leaned my head against hers. Why couldn’t my family just be normal? If they could just be normal, I could handle other things. Like saving the production my friends and I had worked on for the last two months. But I didn’t have the capacity to handle it. Not right now.
Robbie reached out and squeezed my hand. He looked at Fred. “We have to do something. She can’t go out there like this.”
Fred’s foot bounced up and down. “I could pull the fire alarm!”
“Ooh! Or call in a bomb threat!” Robbie suggested.
“You guys. People will freak. There’d be a mob scene,” Stephanie said. “Someone could get trampled.”
“That would be bad,” Fred theorized. “Oh! I’ve got it! I’ll streak the auditorium!”
I snorted a laugh through my tears.
“What’s that gonna do?” Robbie said.
“I don’t know. Distract people?”
“Yeah, I’d say that would be distracting,” Robbie said.
I shook my head, laughing as they concocted insane plan after insane plan. All for me. All because they wanted to protect me. All because they cared about me. And suddenly I realized I wasn’t in this alone. I really did have people who would be there for me no matter what. They’d just been hiding in the most unexpected places.
“You guys, no one’s streaking anything,” I said.
“Okay, fine, but all we need is a plan. One good plan,” Robbie said. “Oh! Go find Glenn Marlowe! He’s sick and twisted! He’ll know what to do.”
There was a knock on the door and it opened. Andy, who had taken over as stage manager since I would, in theory, be on the stage, stuck his head in.
“Hey, guys, it’s almost time for the curtain so if, you know, you could maybe get out to the stage so we could, you know—” He looked up and his jaw dropped. “KJ! What happened?”
I was a mess of makeup streaks. Must’ve looked like a clown who had just been hit by a bus.
“She’s not gonna do it, man,” Robbie said. “We have to cancel the show.”
“Uh, no,” Andy said.
We all stared at him. It was the most definitive sentence Andy had ever said. Was it possible he was drunk with power?
“KJ, listen,” Andy said, stepping around Robbie. “You care about this musical more than anyone. And you’re the only one who can save it now,” he said, looking me in the eye the entire time. “Now, if you tell me that what you really want is for me to go out there and tell everyone to go home, then I’ll do it, but I don’t think that’s what you want.”
“Andy—”
“Just think about it, KJ,” he said. “Is it really what you want?”
I took a moment to think. I thought of all those people out there. All the parents and friends who had come to see their stars. I thought of Mr. Katz and how humiliating it would be for him. Thought of the musicians in the pit, the guys in the AV booth, the faculty members and set crew who had worked behind the scenes. Everyone would be crushed. And I was the only one who could keep that from happening.
Andy was right. After all his survey questions and spending all this time working with me, he knew me very well. He knew I didn’t want all those people to be let down. Not for my own selfish reasons. It just wasn’t me.
I didn’t want it to be me.
“What do you think, KJ?” Stephanie asked.
Robbie and Fred and Andy all gazed at me hopefully.
“Get Ashley in here to help me with my makeup,” I said, lifting my chin. “Let’s get this show on the road.”
ACT FIVE, SCENE NINE
In which:
I GO DOWN
YOU’RE IN YOUR BEDROOM WITH STEPHANIE, SINGING TO KELLY Clarkson. You’re just in your bedroom with Steph. There’s no one else here. There aren’t a thousand people in the audience salivating to see just how spectacular your next mess-up will be. It’s just you and Steph. You and Steph.
The intro to “Look at Me, I’m Sandra Dee” started. My heart no longer wished to be attached to my body. There was no cartilage left in my knees. I was supposed to walk saucily around the park bench and launch into song. Instead, I gripped it with my sweaty palm and sort of stagger-stepped to the front. It was more drunken geriatric than saucy, sexy teen. A few people snickered, but that was fine. I was getting used to it.
So far in the first act, I’d recited three of Cory’s lines, totally cutting her off. I’d almost vomited when Jonathan Marsters slipped me the tongue during our kiss, which he was not supposed to do—and he’d tasted like cigarettes and Cheetos. I’d totally screwed up the choreography on “Summer Lovin’,” tripping Ashley right into Robbie before Sandy and Danny were even supposed to be aware that the other one was at Rydell High. I was a disaster. Complete and total.
And now, it was time to sing. A solo. A solo I had rehearsed once in my life, five minutes before the curtain had lifted on this debacle.
Jeffrey stared at me from his piano. I opened my mouth. Miraculously, sound came out.
“ ‘Look at me, I’m Sandra Dee!
Lousy with virginity!’ ”
Mr. Katz nodded encouragingly from the wings. I kept singing, doing the twirl I’d seen Ashley execute so many t
imes. No one was laughing now. I was doing okay. Maybe I could redeem myself here. Maybe if I just sang my loudest and really focused, I could go out of the first act with a bang.
Ashley-as-Sandy nodded at me and I remembered. I was supposed to be standing on the bench by now. This was it. The big moment. Bring it home, KJ. Bring it home.
I lifted my foot, midnote, and it caught on the underside of the park bench. My heart swooped as my forward momentum careened ahead and my shin slammed into the corner of the bench. I yelped and crashed to the ground, smacking my temple on something hard on the way down. For a second I think I even blacked out, though from lethal mortification or the blow to the head, I have no idea.